Blackwhelp
by ArtemisJade
Summary: The life and times of Lia Blackwell, a runt Black dragon. Starts with the death of Onyxia and ends with the Cataclysm.
1. Chapter 1

~* Prologue *~

Read this page before you read further or you'll be very confused by the pages that follow.

Firstly, a fair warning that this story is not complete and will probably never be complete. However, the entire outline of the story is up, from beginning to end, if you want to see what WOULD have happened had I the attention span to match even that of a rodent.

All female dragons of the Black flight have "ia" at the ends of their names (males have "on"). Therefor, the main character's name is "Lia" (generic Black dragon name). Weakwhelp is her slave name, Blackwell is her human last name, and Blackwhelp is her dragon last name. During the time the outline section of this story was written she did not have a first name yet. While I was writing what few pages of chapter I have up I came up with an actual dragon name for her, which is revealed in the addon to the original outline.

This outline was written during the first month of Cata. As a result I was not aware of the coming lore changes (aspects loosing their powers, Thrall's questline, Wrathion, etc), so please understand that is why variations to the lore exist in this story. The one thing I knowingly changed is who is sitting on the throne at Icecrown.

This story takes place after and therefor has spoilers for "The Cat in the Bag: The Druid Pawn". "Hellcat" is a temporary nickname for Kayas. Her actual nickname is to be determined, and her real last name is a fearfully guarded secret.

This story was inspired by the though of an underdog. But what, I though, would make any Black dragon the underdog? What would make her free of the other Black dragon's corruption? What would make her important to the lore of Azeroth? The answer was simple: freedom from the curse of being a Black dragon. But how to unmake a black dragon? Again, simple: don't let them be a black dragon to begin with.

Prince Anduin appears in this story. When this was written I had no idea he going to play a role the next xpack. There are so many neglected story lines that I though they would pick up long before giving Anduin any lore love. I was wrong. Therefor, I'm glad my predictions of him being a rebel and a priest bore true. Even if they made him a Gary Stu imitation of Uther Lightbringer, the Perfect Son In a Box ™, I can still work with that.


	2. Weakwhelp

~*~ Chapter 1 ~*~

"The _size_ of that thing!" The Orc warrior's thickly gloved hand came up to shield his eyes from the molten dust that both scoured and caked him. The massive head of the dragon, several times over as large as the largest Orc-made housing, rushed to the floor as the jelly-boned body gave out and the sinful creature breathed her last. The great fiery exhale of air jetted out and nearly swept a disciple of Elune from her feet. A quick word to her matron and the shield of that Goddesses Grace saved her from the fate of those who did not live to see it ended.

The stench of foulest breath roasted the walls and mixed with the sulfur, lava and ashy miasma that was this black creature's foul lair. Here she had fled from Stormwind and here she had holed up, hatching brood after murderous brood and unleashing her demon-like spawn in never-ending waves. The Swamp of Sorrows was not always that…

"It's dead!" A roar of triumph went threw the survivors. Amongst them the Priestess of Elune, skilled in the arts of mitigating damage to her allies, would be the last of their number to die that day. Into the magma pools she collapsed, a taller and nobler figure than all of them she swayed on her bare feet… and toppled over the brink with a small smile on her aged lips.

They saw it, all of the triumphant survivors of the raiding party. They saw her topple and go and did not stop her. She was spent, just like the dragon. It was her time and at least this way there would be nothing left for fouler enemies to raise. The lessons of Andorhol were not forgotten easily by those who had been witness to its fall.

The Orc warrior, Mow'kwar by name and assassin by title – though how a warrior comes to carry such a title was a story you'd get out of him with only the finest Dark Iron ale – stood and stared at the spot she stood. Her diligence had kept him alive. Her patience had seen it threw to the end where others had failed. She had taken his life in her hands and let half of his men die to keep him healed and energized that he might make the great beast they sought to destroy pay for it's crimes.

Stormwind would feast that night. Orgrimmar would feast that night.

Mow'kwar knelt in the spot she had stood, imagined he still felt the heat of her bare feat on the searing hot stones. In truth, it was but the natural heat of the dragon's lair though it seemed to be cooling already with the death of its occupant. He stood.

"Gather the fallen, what can be carried and make sure they are labeled. Send them back home." His men did just that. Men being a relative term as most of the survivors were women folk and Alliance women folk at that. He was loath to lead these small Human women into battle, being so… small… but they had proven themselves. Especially these slinky, pretty ones they called mages. He liked them very much.

"Moka-" for that was their nickname for him –"what of the dragon? We dare not leave the corpse here. Or the rest." The Human male at his elbow was short and thick about the middle, corded threw and threw with the strength of one who swung sledge hammers which weighed half as much as he did.

Moka turned to the man, both of them with necks as thick as their heads, " We dare not leave anything behind. My men will get the damnable beast's body out and you're men can take care of the little beasts. Leave nothing for them to salvage!"

"Yes, sir!" The man's wide hand snapped to his temple and back down to the multi-tool on his belt – the newest piece of engineering whatsthatthingdo some Gnome whosyourmom came up with.

From the corner Moka could hear the most pathetic screeeeeing noises anything had ever made. The battle hardened Orc glanced over and the mist filled his big green eyes for just a moment before he closed them and turned away. In a moment it would all be over. In a moment they wouldn't cry anymore.

The Orcs carved up Onyxia while the Humans laid waste to the broken winged, battered and bruised whelplings huddled in the corner of the cavern. The shrieks were loud for only a moment.

And then silence.

~ Evening ~

It took over two dozen of the smaller Human men to haul out the head of that she-beast. They discussed carving it up: take out the horns and teeth, remove the jaw, burn the flesh off and just cart away the bones. Much lighter they argued, but their Orcish overlord was having none of it. He wanted it preserved just the way it was in order to display the thing properly.

A testament to the might of Orgrimmar; a testament to the might of Mow'kwar.

"Be careful about those joints," he told the women who was already taking such care to remove the wings in pieces. "I want them to be fully articulating when we clean the bones and string them back together." The look all of them gave the Orc only earned them a bright toothed smile. Yes, he had just told them to carry it out meat and all so he could de-bone it in Orgrimmar.

Get back to work.

Moka took station by the entrance of the cavern, being the sole human bearer of a key to the place, and did the meticulous work of taking inventory. Human, dragon and whelpling bodies were carted out, whole or in pieces, and spread out for display and haggling.

Of the whelpings and smaller dragons – smaller being another relative term for something that is twelve feet tall and has more appendages than any holy being has a right to – he made no care of, save to mark the number. His women and men all did with them what they would. Rolled for skins, bones, teeth and the edible bits. The bloody work of gutting and cleaning the carcasses was left to the winner… a double edges win there as the dressing took so long that a winner rarely got to roll twice on any given spoil.

That is, until the opened up the stomach of the beast herself and out poured the most incredible array of ornaments any of them had ever seen. The stuff of kinds and queens, of priestesses and warriors, all laid out before their very eyes. It must speak volumes of her trust for her kin to squalor away such treasures in her own stomach…

"But thank the Light she did!" Helenome was one of those silly, silky, sassy mages that Moka liked very much. There were not enough S words in the Common tongue to cover just what he though of these particular Human women. There were no words in Common for what he'd do if one of them would so much as glance at an Orc like him, let alone deem him worthy of 'alone time'. "I got the killing blow; I get first roll on that ring." The sway of her hips caused the enchanted folds of her luxurious robes to sway and shimmer. More S words Mow'kwar loved.

"Fine. You are the only one who can use it." … because Sel'ethet's bones now lie with Orthal in the bottom of the magma pool. Their shaman had been deaf as they come and that was probably why he had not heard the orders for him to invoke his totems in time… the result being a spell-induced trip into the hatchery and then into the magma. The rest might feel sorry for him but for his final words: "Wrong turn!"

A pitty he was gone, the old goat. The mages will lament on cold and lonely nights to come in the Swamp of Sorrows.

The ring in question was handed over to the mage in question. No doubt people will remember her sinful flirting with the elderly Troll long after she herself forgets the man existed. Another S word, Moka mused as the rest of the spoils were rationed out. He didn't care for any of it himself, his retirement looming just around the corner. Better these younger whippersnappers get the rewards they had earned. Defeating Onyxia was the last cinch of honor he belted about himself in a long list of gradually grander achievements. He intended to live to retire while he was still ahead.

Looking about him at the twelve remaining survivors of what had been a band of forty strong just hours ago Mow'kwar counted them out. There was only eleven amongst them. "Who's missing?"

"Kennet, Sir!" Jenetore Silkwaif, a nothing of an accountant from some pre-village, non-settlement in Desolace, stood with her enchanted ink and paper at the ready. Normally the High Elfs avoided manual labor, but the girl was just so… different. Numbers were her thing; an addiction the likes of which no one could understand who did not also have similar addictions. Men had women, women had food, Orcs had honor and Taurens had their ancestors: you never ask why a being is obsessed… You just accept that's the way they were made and move on.

"Where is he?"

"Double-checking to make sure there is nothing for them to salvage sir. As you ordered." The perky, sweet smile of the aptly named waif made the younger Orc – certainly in years though not in maturity, which everyone knows has nothing to do with years, lets be honest – forget that this had indeed been his order. He smiled down at the tiny nugget of elf. She smiled back. Sweet, he realized, was an S word that would never describe a mage. Squishy; sarcasm; saviors... but never _sweet_.

"So I did. Very well then. Lets see what we can do about getting dinner going. No shortage of fresh meat." The blue eyes gazed up at him. Gazed and in their depths saw and accepted the man who had just slain a mother in front of her children… and then slayed those children just for having that beast for a mother.

If anyone understood that kind of logic, it was a High Elf.

~ Night ~

Kennet huddled low over the opening in the wall. The space was small. Eggs that had fallen that way were crushed or hatched, their dead contents oozing out over the floor. He'd been quick to take care of them before they took to the air. Whelplings were tiny, but once they got in the air they were dangerous, deadly. One alone was enough to kill a man if it got the fire inside it under control before being reeled in.

Carefully he reached in, feeling along the inside of the crack until his groping fingers brushed over the smooth and warm thing he sought. Yes, as expected an egg had fallen in here. An egg that had not hatched as the others had, either by having food in it's immediate proximity or by having it's hell-spawn mother command it to come to her aid.

More carefully Kennet pulled the thing out. Near as long as his arm, not including the hand, it was not quite as big as the other eggs, not the same around as they. But it was alive and warm.

A thought formed in his head. He had not been a greedy man in life but now that his retirement dawned on him it occurred to a man for the first time that there hadn't been anything in it for him. He didn't get to roll on the contents of the stomach, or win a roll on a dragon hide for his own use, nor will he get to tell the tale of his heroism to anyone who could even understand the dangers he had fought and overcome.

Looking down at the warm think in his hands he decided that this would be his prize.

~ The Next Morning ~

"I'm gong back to my tower, Moka. My work is done here." Kennet and his three men had spent the night on patrol and that morning they packed their supplies. The paltry excuses for reinforcements the remainder of the Black Flight sent to save their broodmother were laying face down in the muck, hide-less and devoid of horns, claw or fang.

Ornaments were all the humans wanted now. The meat was for the pets of their animal-bound allies. Two enormous cats feasted on one hide while the spirit of a wolf's ancestor made a meal of another. The spirit in question made no noises as it ate and never did. That was just creepy.

Their Orc overseer yawned like a python and flopped into his folding camp chair, "Take care, Kennet."

The pack kodo was loaded up and rumbling like a well-oiled goblin rocket-chair as the men climbed up and headed out of camp. They were the first to leave, but were soon followed by the rest. The body of the black-hearted animal they slew was packed up in enchanted crates and teleported back to Orgrimmar via mage portals. The rest drifted away like smoke in the rain, headed back to whichever corner of the world they had crawled out of.

~ That Evening ~

"You want to do what now?" Kennet's best man didn't have the senses the Light gave the blind to see the obvious of a thing. Farlow wouldn't even touch the egg when he'd shown the men his secreted spoil.

"I'm going to hatch this damn thing and raise it up for a mount. " Kennet himself didn't know that he was a few grains short of a powder keg.

Bossen was not an idiot, "That thing's going to eat you as soon as it gets the teeth to chew threw the leathers, and kill you in you're sleep."

"I bet it won't be that long even." Tepert was rolling the egg back and forth in his meaty hands. No doubt he was wondering how much meat lay inside the shell and how much of a fight the whelpling would put up to keep it all attached to the bone. "Best tie the wings down then so it cant get into the air. Their fire melts metal if they have a knack for the magic of it. Wont be a chain forged by the likes of us can hold it if that's the case."

The fire crackled and threw sinister shadows on the walls of the gutted tower. Having been built to be a way station for travelers in the increasingly hostile territory of what is now called the Swamp of Sorrows, Ms. Jaina Proudmore was forced to abandon most of the towers repairs as the situation with the Black Flight became more and more dire. Now she let anyone and everyone whole up in them if they will do the least of the work in keeping the general mileage around the tower free of what goes bump in broad daylight. Scruples aside, it was surprising how good the men who chose to take up a task such as that were at their job.

Kennet took the egg back from Tepert and placed it back in the braiser, "It's not ready to hatch yet. I don't want some scrawny thing that won't be able to carry me till I'm nigh deaf, dumb and blind with age. I want a strong one that'll only take a year or two to get big enough to mount with a saddle. Leave it there till it's ready."

Men should not listen to old wives when they tell tales of how dragons brood their eggs.

~ That Night ~

"What's wrong with the blasted thing?" Kennet had gone to check on his egg before bed and low and behold if the damned thing wasn't getting cold! It seemed to him, and Bossen also, that the fire was about the only thing keeping the egg from turning to stone.

Farlow and Tepert were silent to the sides, having no idea about dragon eggs. They didn't have the advantage of wives tales as Kennet did and so felt utterly disqualified to diagnose the problem.

"Break it open." Bossen said at long last, solemn and strait backed. "It's dying so at least this way we might be able to do something. The fire obviously isn't working."

Kennet grunted disagreement that his source would be incorrect but nonetheless punched a neat hole into the hard shell of the egg with his multi-tool. The act of breaking apart the thing took surprisingly more time than expected. In the heat of the lair of that monster that laid them all it had seemed as if they just flew to pieces at the slightest touch.

~*~ End ~*~

This is where I stopped writing this story. I actually wrote this long after writing the chapter that follows. I put the outline up because I this is all there is of the first part of the story. It isn't finished and I understand how frustrating it is to start reading a story you love on FFN and then realize the author never intends to finish it. That is, if they ever knew what was going to happen to begin with!


	3. The Prince's Whelp

~*~ Author's Notes ~*~

Written: Nov 4 2013

This part of the story is set in Stormwind Kingdom shortly after the fall of the Lich King, but before Deathwing makes his grand re-entrance into the world (literally).

This could be considered a 'blurb' or 'drabble' I suppose, as it is not a complete work.

Spoilers for "Cat in the Bag".

~* Chapter 1 *~

~ Elwyn Forest ~

_Now that's not something you see every day: a dragon in Elwyn. _

A lone figure clad in a simple white robe of a studying cleric happened across a pit of cinders as large as a house. In the middle of the pit a Black Dragon wallowed as if swimming backward threw the sea of searing red coal. Soot-covered wings kicked up sparks in waves, which were caught on the winds and floated harmlessly over the enormous clearing. The wedge shaped head thrashed back and forth on the ground, like a dog trying to scratch a bad itch, though the noises the pony sized beast made were pure, unadulterated contentment. Happiness.

But all too soon the embers being launched into the air and churned by the gleefully rooting dragon turned to ash and lost their sting. As the figure watched, aware that the watched was so intent upon what it was doing it didn't even notice the human standing in plain view, the creature rolled over onto it's four legs and searched for a solution. Cold coals were no fun at all.

That was when he, the lone figure, first noticed what should have been apparent form the beginning. Dragons cannot roll onto their backs; the long spines protruding from their necks and heads prevented it. This one had no horns. Not a single one.

_Now that's not something you see every day: a dragon without horns._

The midday sun baked the forests of Elwyn. There was no getting away from it; even the normally cool woods were fluttering in surreal waves. The grass in the shade was warm enough to keep your meal hot. The siesta the workers were taking had given the young man the opportunity, which for weeks had eluded him, to check on the progress of the new farmlands.

What he had no expected was to find the dragon setting the fields on fire, chewing up the cleared lumber and then spitting out the coals into a – what it seemed like – draconic swimming pool. Shallow, but this one seemed not to find that bothersome. Not as bothersome as the coals that kept going cool to fast, at any rate.

It was hard to make out the details of the small dragon but to note the lack of protruding sharpness. What wasn't obscured in clouds of ashen smoke was hidden by burn debris. Attempts to shake the debris from the hide were met with snorts of annoyance when they refused to be dislodged. These snorts sometimes came out fiery and sometimes as the blackest smoke the cleric had seen in his few, but excited years of life.

The watcher smiled to see this. Though in his heart of hearts he longed to see a dragon up close and personal - that wasn't trying to kill him or his loved ones – he shared the same secret fear of the Black Flight as the entire world. After that fiasco with Onyxia, after the Queen's death and the Defias rebellion, after Nefarion and the many problems he caused – to dragonkin as well as humans – and especially after the Aspect of Earth went insane and was banished back to his realm… no one could say they did not harbor a loathing.

_I think it's a she. Hard to tell from here but it's defiantly _not_ a boy._

The dragon had run out of small and medium pieces of wood to chew into coals. The larger logs, which had not been split yet, were half piled and half lying around. Of these she grasped one in her jaws and drug it over the rough ground to the cinderpool. It amused her audience to watch a winged pony attempt to move a log half as big as she with just her mouth. The muscles of her neck and shoulders strained and quivered, the placement of teeth having to be readjusted several times. Attempts to push from the other end failed as well. Finally the idea to _roll_ the log made the cleric chuckle into his hand as she thumped her forehead into the log in an obvious _doh_ expression.

All protruding edges were quickly chewed off and spat out into a pile. When she didn't roll in them immediately an insatiable curiosity overcame the young man. The curiosity was held up by the limited amount of time he could stay gone before others would be panicking over his absence. The dragon worried the log for so long he though she would never get around to more lolling about, but finally there came a sharp crack in the air and a sucking sensation.

The winds had been carrying the soot across the field and into the neighboring woods. Now the very blackness of the air was pulled inward toward the dragon and for a moment she stood there stunned. And then sneezed. The force of fire that erupted from mouth and nose earned a warble of disgruntled protest.

_I _bet_ that didn't feel good. Does she not know how to breathe fire properly?_

The crackle of the flame breath hitting the log was all that hid the outright laughter. When the flame settled a perturbed dragon glared at the barely flaming trunk. That had not worked as expected. And now her nose burned and her throat itched. Several coughs produced black smoke and spit composed of thick, wet ash. A swift shake of the head and the black slobber flew to the sides and sizzled where it hit the smoldering ground.

The young man wrinkled his brown, knowing for certain he had heard a beeping noise. Over the sound of the embers crackling and his focus on the draconic beauty in front of him there came the distinctive sounds of beeping. She was close enough to touch, if he didn't mind pulling back a charred nub, with only a few steps forward. It was almost worth it, but what would his father say?

The head swung around toward the sound and relief filled her watcher. So he wasn't just hearing things if the dragon heard it too. An instant latter she was in the air and flying off, buffets of wind sending smoke and ash in all directions. It happened so fast, a clearing that had been occupied just a second before now devoid of anything but cold cinders and a partially charred log that the young man blinked several times.

The ash settled onto his robe while he stood staring at the empty spot. She had been there though, a dragon in Elwyn. A black dragon at that; he had to tell his father. He had to tell as many people as he could.

_Do I really? Was she hurting anyone? For all I know she was passing threw and happened upon the blaze and took advantage for a little R&R… _

That was probably it. Just because one sees an Orc doesn't mean an invasion, right? He winced to think of that though. The Orcs had also once attacked Stormwind , had even slain one king and driven another out in the process. Well the world was full of evils and you'd have to live in burrows to be blind to them.

Sounds of men returning from the siesta whispered up behind him. When they saw the young cleric-in-training they gave hearty hello and walked right past. Their amazement as they entered the clearing stopped each of them in their tracks. Then came the whoops and laughter.

"The fire apprentices must have lost their bet to the frost apprentices again. No way they do work unless they have to!" The biggest of them was red-clad in thick linen and blue work overalls. His men and women workers bore blue uncolored linen shirts and blue overalls. The Wood Cutters Guild, judging by their green and brown tabard of an axe and felled tree, paid to clear out new farmland to feed the kingdom's expanding population.

One of them plunked a metal box on the ground near the tree the young cleric stood buy and smacked the thick brass button on topped. It beeped loud enough to startle the unwary youngling and earned a laugh from half the others present. They liked making sport of the _squishies_, as they called those who cast spells instead of swinging steal. That box beeping is what both he and that long-gone dragon had heard. She must have known it would signal them to come…

That was when he realized the dragon was not just passing threw, but had been living in Elwyn for quite some time.

~ Goldshire Inn ~

Lia pushed her way into the Goldshire Inn and around several less-than-scrupulous girls. Most of them were no older than she of seventeen and stood by the door tempting young men into cold drink and warm sheets at all hours of the day and night. That this day was suppose to be a holy day for the followers of the Light did not phase the ones who forsook the brightness of the church for the darkness of a whores boudoir.

That was not why she came to the Inn however. The innkeeper spotted her immediately, being quick of eye and heavy of purse, and hurried over. The woman sized up the new arrival even as she approached, wondering if the stranger wanted a bed alone or with company. Over by the fire were the men for sale, not all of who were preening like roosters.

The woman didn't open her mouth before Lia let it be know exactly what she was after, "A bath, if you please." Even the smallest movements sent soft puffs of gray into the air. She reeked of burning wood so strongly a few around her edge away as politely as they could.

Stopping to take in her customers clothing, the matron put a hand over her mouth to fight back the giggles, "Yes, ma'am." Turning she indicated Lia should follow up the steps, "Boyfriend is in the Wood Cutter's Guild I take it? They're clearing farmland out west. Gave him quite a relaxing siesta?"

The matron's back was turned so she didn't see Lia's blush under the hooded cloak. It was covered in ash, as was everything else. "Someone had a good time in that field. It wasn't my boyfriend though." The edge of her voice made the older woman laugh outright and grin wickedly.

"In here." The room was tiny, absolutely tiny, but just big enough for a person to move around in and the single copper tub was big enough for a grown man. "Left knob is hot, right is cold." Though the knobs said so, not everyone could read.

Putting down her school bag and tossing off the cloak in one motion, Lia turned on the hot water full blast. No cold water to cut it, not if she had her way about it. "Thank you. How much is the bath… and your silence?"

The woman smiled knowingly. Certain men would not want it known that their girlfriends were tumbling Wood Cutters. Rival guilds for instance. Mage guiles if the innkeeper read the school uniform properly.

"Tell you what," the sly innkeeper bargained, "you give me a name and I'll keep your secret for free. The bath is twenty-and-five for every fifteen minutes."

Lia looked up from the selection of grooming supplies on the shelf, mouth hanging open slightly, "Collector of secrets I see." _What was it with people and their need to butt into the lives of everyone around them?_

"You'd have to live in the Keep _not_ to see."

"Well I don't live in the Keep, no one cares about me. How much for your silence."

The woman tsked, "Your name and I'll call us even."

Lia smiled. She could do that. "Lia."

Tilting her head down the matron pinned her with a look, "Just Lia? Mage apprentices from Stormwind are never 'just Lia'. Not like farmhands."

"Black. And no more or… I'll go jump in a lake." The threats made her falter a little, instinctively not wanting to make the woman mad at her. She had seen Kayas handle people who were rude and pushy and it seemed to work out. Of course, Kayas had the advantage of being able to shift forms, and the reputation didn't hurt either.

"Black." The name rolled over the woman's tongue like a food she didn't quite know if she liked, "Yes, I think that describes you quite well. Lia Black. Black hair, black eyes… medium skin tone. I'll take it." The door swung shut, "Enjoy your bath, ma'am."

As she lowered her body into the tub a few moments latter her eyes slid shut and she floated. Soon after she was thinking of _him_ again and found it hard not to take advantage of a tub of hot water, privacy and an vivid imagination. And what better place than a seedy inn with exactly that kind of reputation?

~ Half an Hour Latter ~

The innkeeper stood aghast as Lia handed her every ounce of money she had. The woman wasn't even looking at how much gold piled up in one outstretched hand as she inspected the damage to the tub. The melted metal had seeped threw the floorboards and onto the stemware stored in the room below. The sound of shattering glass caused half the customers to flee, thinking it was their bounty on call. Or some such other nonsense.

There was damage to the pipes, blacked boards of the floor, insulation between the stories of the Inn and the suffocating waves of heat that had caused every sensible person to evacuate the top story altogether.

"How… how… how?" was all the dazed matron stammered. A crowd formed outside the door staring at the older woman, Lia and the damage. Lia just kept placing gold coins into the hand, one with each 'how' that was uttered. By the time the woman turned to stare at her blankly there was enough gold piled into her fingers they sipped threw and fell to the floor with a clatter.

Lia ran, darting out of the room and down the steps. She made it to the door before the screeching reached her. In the streets she darted down the alley between the Inn and a furniture shop and back behind some crates. The woman could be mad at her all day and into next week if she wanted but Lia knew for a fact that gold was more than enough to cover the damages. It was the last of it till Kayas sent more at the end of the week.

Good thing her friend's encouragements to be extravagant with her spending went unheeded, else this fiasco would have ended with her in jail till a certain Hellcat came to bail her out. Wouldn't that just be wonderful? No, Lia though, it would have been worse if Ms. Proudmore had come. It still wasn't known where exactly Kayas was. Supposedly on her way to Wrymrest Temple but none of the letters Lia sent over the last month had been answered. Just the steady supply of tuition, personal funds and the occasional trinket indicated her matron was still out there somewhere and fighting the good fight.

When the noise from the Inn died down Lia stepped out of the alley with the cloak tight around her shoulders and book opened over her face so no one could see even her mouth. It wasn't hard to avoid bumping into people if you kept one eye on the words and one on the path ahead, but the ones who wanted to be in your way tended to have a knack for not being avoided.

A young man's voice floated over the top of the book, "Interested in dragons?"

Startled, she lowered the book enough to see a handsome youth, probably no older than she, and of an opposite coloring as night and day. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a dashing bright smile. The smile tipped her off. Nobility and judging by the quality of those cleric robes rich as bad sin. Handsome, young, single and noble. Lia betted coppers to gold pieces there was half a dozen girls threatening to 'just die' at any given moment if he ignored their attempts to flirt.

She smiled back, a smile that's coloring said _I brush my teeth once a day, in the morning_. His smile said _I don't brush my teeth at all; I have an army of servants to do that for me_. "Yes," she replied to his question and showed him the cover of the book, _History of the Bronze Flight_.

He held out his hand and seemed genuinely pleased to have bumped into her, "Andy."

Taking his hand delicately as she had been taught, she gave a small nod and shake, "Lia."

"Have you had lunch yet, Ms. Lia?" He indicated what looked like a blacksmiths directly across the busy street from the Inn. "I'm thrilled to meet another individual who's read anything by Magus Mordro."

Looking back and forth between the smithy and handsome man, Lia put her nose in the air smugly, "I'm taken, if that's what your after. Well spoken for, though I'll keep you in mind if he should die suddenly."

The young man guffawed and coughed several laughs into fisted fingers. A blush of healthy red rose before he put hands up in truce, "Fair enough, Ms. I'm not looking for a date, just lunch." He was still smiling and chuckling to himself. It was contagious and soon she was smiling too and snorted at herself.

"Sin'dorie treat or…?" As soon as the words left her mouth the young man's frown made her wonder if it was impolite to ask how the check would be split in such a manor.

"What is… sin'dorie treat?"

At least Lia had the decency to blush, "You'd have to live in the Keep to… oh, nevermind. Are you paying or me?"

He snorted now, mimicking her snort from earlier, flattery at it's finest. "A gentlemen doesn't ask a lady to dine with him and not pay for both."

Extending her arm warmly she smiled in acceptance. With an empty purse as hollow as the nervous tummy inside this was a blessing from the Light, "I'd be honored then." As he took her arm and led her to the shop she tossed her hood back and said, "Though I prefer Archmage Meleks work on the Blue Flight over Magus Mordro."

In mock disgust his mouth dropped open, "Blasphemy! That man wouldn't know a Blue skull from a Green if they both still had horns!" He expected her to argue but she did not. The sentiment was exactly as she suspected. Her distain with the Magus was the way he wrote about dragons as if they were test subjects in a lab and not living beings with souls and lives and surprises of their own.

To Lia's fascination there happened to be a small diner in the back of the smithy. The armorer's wife brought them hand written menus and a tea set for two with a rather delicious orange and green blend from the Alteracs. A quick study of the menu and their orders were placed in a moment's time. The same forges that put plate on soldiers also roasted meat and baked biscuits.

After sipping and complimenting the tea Andy gave her his full attention, "So you're studying to be a mage in the city?"

Lia made a mental note to get the name of this tea and send Ms. Proudmore a box. It was simply delightful. "Yes. Second year of study in fire magic."

Leaning into the table he asked, "How do you like it in Stormwind?"

"What makes you think I'm new to Stormwind?"

Both light colored eyebrows rose in amusement, "Your accent isn't even from this continent, let alone the city."

_And you would know_. "True, you have me on that. I like it greatly."

"Where do you come from? I'm not too familiar with Kalimdor. I've only been there a couple times."

"Ah, um…" '_Cause 'um' is a right and proper word I that needs to be in my vocabulary._ "Duskshallow Marsh." A breath huffed out, "Lively place, I recommend _not_ visiting. Ever."

"Not such a sweet home?" He took another sip of the tea.

Bad memories of cages and chains crept into her mind. Kayas had told her to not let the anger well up if she could help it. Lesser beings became brittle and bitter and then shattered into hateful beings when their hatred consumed them. She had to be especially careful, all things considering.

When she didn't answer he amended, "I'm sorry if I upset you."

Quickly she looked up, realizing her gaze had been staring into one of the knots of the wood planks that made up the simple hewn tables of the diner. His hand reached across the table to touch her arm lightly, reassuringly.

"Lets talk about you. You're from Stormwind?" The abrupt change of subject brought a half smile to his lips. The hand was withdrawn and fiddled with the teacup.

"Yes. I live in the city."

Taking up her own cup again she sipped and held it to her lips, "Studying to be a priest?"

The pale blue eyes averted to stare across the room, "Something like that."

"Cleric robes so…"

He shied away from the admission for a second and then plunged in anyway, "Well, my father doesn't want me to be a priest."

Figures. "He wants you to fight?"

The wisdom caught him off guard and his eyes met hers again, "Yes. That obvious?"

"That typical. No father wants his son to be a spell-flinger. They wouldn't even let their daughters do it if old customs didn't persist that said women should stay off the battlefield. In human culture at least. But times have changed since the Second War and there are entire regimen of women on the field and men in robes healing them. The world changes and we move on from the old ways."

The silenced stretched for a couple minutes while he considered these words. The Night Elfs were particularly known for fielding entire armies of nothing but female fighters. Only recently have they let males into the Silverwing Sentinels or into their priesthood. If anyone could be said to move onto a new way from old customs it would defiantly be the Night Elfs and if not them then the Trolls.

"Well I'm no healer. I… I can call divine protection, I'm very good at that." The pride of this admission, of being able to say _I'm good at something_ lit a light on the inside. The look on her face must have mirrored the one on his and he mirrored it back. Soon they were both laughing and sipping tea again.

A moment of silence and their food arrived. She had braised duck with mixed vegetables and he had the house salad with slivered beef. The dressing was too sweet for his taste and had to be sent back for something with more of a twang. Finally steak sauce found it's way over his greens and the cook only shook her head in amusement to see it. Lia mimicked the gesture, picking at her own vegetables and dipping them into the butter sauce between delicate bites.

After several forks of food Andy resumed the conversation, "Somehow I didn't think you'd like vegetables, if you don't mind me saying."

Perplexed she wrinked her nose at him, "And why is that?"

"I haven't met a woman with black eyes yet who hasn't abhorred anything that grows out of the ground or has to be plucked from bush or tree."

Digging into her duck she tsked at him, "Come now, black eyes are not that unusual."

"No," he spread more sauce on the beef, "but not as commonplace as brown or blue or green. It's like the rare Dwarf who has violet eyes."

"Some humans have violet."

Andy probably didn't realize he pointed with his fork, a major etiquette no-no, "True. But that points to mixed ancestry and with the aforementioned Dwarfs to be exact."

"I'd give you two gold for that word if I had any to give."

Realizing what he had just said made him grin sheepishly, "I'm sorry. If forget not everyone likes to speak to a scholar."

Spitting out her tongue she scoffed, "Oh, please. I'm not so ill bred and uneducated you'll need to dumb yourself down for my sake. And can I just point out this duck is about the best thing I've eaten in my life." The praise was heard across the room to where the cook was rolling silverware. She smiled at Lia when all the other guests of the diner looked up and over at the half eaten dish and made mental notes to come back and try it.

"You study fire magic, then?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You do smell like wood smoke and have ash all over your cloak."

"Well… you have ash on your robe. So _neye_!"

Alarmed he shot a look down at himself. Seeing the truth of it he seemed to fly into a panic, "Oh, by the Light! This is borrowed; I'm going to get into so, so, so much trouble for getting it dirty!"

Perplexed she wrinkled her nose again, "Just get it washed before you give it back. There are a lot of cleaners in town." And I'm sure you can afford it.

Andy didn't know you can't rub ash out of white linen. It didn't work like that and in fact only made the black specs into gray streaks that brought even more attention to them. "That's not it. I'm suppose to meet someone here and they don't know-"

The sudden stop to the flow of panicked jabbering caused her to grin like the innkeeper with her cache of secrets. Her new friend was getting more and more interesting by the minute. "Not suppose to what?"

"Not suppose to know I… went to the farmlands today, to talk to the overseer."

Her smile didn't falter, "About what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You wipe that dung-eating grin off your face, Ms. Lia. It's unbecoming."

The laugher that peeled out of her startled the nearest guess and the smith in the other room. He poked his head in the door to see an apprentice mage with both hands over her mouth and an apologizing look for everyone around her.

"What's more unbecoming," Lia countered, "your foul mouth or my foul smile?"

He didn't get a chance to answer when several men in ornate heavy plate and mail swept threw the door and pinned the pair with steely cold stares.

"I'd like to finish my meal before you drag me back to the city, if you don't mind."

"You can get better food in the city." One of the men said, eyeing the fair as if it were so much filth only worthy of slaves and swine, " and with better company."

Andy slowly rose to his feet, the blush of shame spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Their gazes locked for a second. "Get. Out." The tone of voice was unmistakable; _I'm in charge here. Obey._

The man's jaw looked ready to shatter if a feather touched it but under the stare of someone obviously higher up the food chain than he was the leader of the four men relented and turned swiftly to exit. "We're right outside this door. You have ten minutes." Though Andy opened his mouth to argue the door slamming shut cut off his protest.

Lia was impressed. Her new friend had _clout_. Not to say she didn't have other friends with similar convenient features, but they were too far away to be of use right now. Finishing their lunch in peace was top of the priority list, next to getting back to the city before nightfall and avoiding the innkeeper in the process.

Delicately Lia nibbled on the carrot at the end of her fork, "Friends of yours?"

Andy plunked down into his chair with little ceremony and slumped like a zeppelin balloon someone poked a hole in, "My father's men." Turning from the door he scooted the chair back up to the table, "It's fun being the only son. Let me tell you!"

Lia signed, "Could be worse." _You could be an orphan, like me!_

"Well I know it can be worse." His voice was harsher than he mean and the apology was swift, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… " After a moment of poking at the salad the fork found it's way to the napkin, "I think I'm not hungry anymore."

"Bugger that! Eat. If they want to be rude then that's on them. You got a father you say? Let him know your lunch was interrupted by his hounds and if he's as protective as he seems to be of his only son then he'll sort 'em out right fast and in a hurry!"

Lia's enthusiasm, though half jesting, perked him up. The fork was in his hand soon and in a moment the first forkful was making its way to his mouth again. "That's my boy," she cheered, "eating has always been my favorite way to protest unfair treatment."

Around his mouthful of steak and greens Andy ventured to ask, "And what treatment has that been, Ms. Lia? You look as well cared for as a kept woman."

"Pft. I'm an orphan out of some bushwater village in a no-name territory. If it wasn't for the Hellcat I'd still be there and … well I don't think I'd have made it much longer – by the Light, what is it about you that makes me spill my guts like this? Half my friends don't know where I'm from and I've known you for all of twenty minutes!"

Andy knodded, "The feeling is mutual. I don't often voice my discontent to young ladies I've just met. You keep my secrets and I'll keep yours?"

"Now that," Lia pointed with her own fork, "is a deal."

"I have to ask though, who is 'the Hellcat'."

The fork clattered to the plate, then table, then floor while she stared. The cook rushed over to bring a new one and carry off the dirty one. "You'd have to live in the Keep to not know who Kayas Hellcat is!" The cook nodded agreement since she was still in earshot when the declaration was made. She exited the dining area and into the kitchen afterward, removing herself from further involvement in the conversation.

Andy winced and didn't say anything, picked at his food.

"Or the Cathedral, maybe?"

"Something like that."

Lia searched for a way to explain Kayas to someone who didn't know. How on earth could anyone _not_ know! Certainly there were a great many stories about a great many people circulating and there were only so many bards to write so many ballads and only so many rainy nights for people to gather around a fire and listen to a song or two but… how could one not know?

Well apparently you could _not know_. "She's… my sponsor. A Druid from Auberdine who made a name for herself amongst the Horde. She's neutral faction now, but not by choice. She found me in Duskshallow and … brought me here to train as a mage."

Andy about choked on the last of his cup, "Your saying a neutral faction Druid brought you to Stormwind and set you up to study fire magic under _our_ teachers?"

Lia frowned, "Yes?" Why did that matter? Everyone knows Ms. Proudmore doesn't teach fire magic.

Andy took a deep breath and let it out, "Orphan you say?"

"Yes."

"Who raised you?"

"You know, we're me-deep into this conversation and I don't want to hog all the attention. Lets talk about you. If you're not a healer then what kind of priest do you want to be?"

The sudden change of subject caught the young cleric off guard, "Subtle way of avoiding the topic, Ms. Lia."

She beamed and finished her own cup. The duck was gone too, the last of the vegetables being picked off one at a time. He had about two bites left on the salad. Looks like his father's men weren't going to have to wait ten min to get their charge back.

"I have to say, I've seen a lot of noble sons and daughters escorted around the city by guards but four? Really? Your dad needs to get a thesaurus and look up _overkill_."

Andy laughed out loud, "I tell him early and often. But worry not, these men are his most trusted bodyguards and he is loath to send even one of them away."

"Meaning?"

"I haven't had to learn a new escape rout since I was seven: that was about twelve years ago. All I need is about that many minutes, any time and any place, and I can slip them." He pointed a perfectly manicured nail in challenge; "You can hold me to that."

"A cleric should not have such a mischievous grin."

Sitting back in the chair he relaxed and let his belly out in that way that men did when they were full and way too comfortable. No matter who you were or where you were Lia had never seen a woman do that. Not once. "I think I'm going to be a battle priest. Maybe a shield and some light armor. Somewhere between a paladin and a battlemage. Not a squishy, not offense, but not so encumbered by armor, as my father would like. I have the Light's divine protection; I don't need plate."

The slant of sunlight threw the window signaled the day was about to begin dying out. She'd have to get a move on if she wanted to get back to the city before dark. "Judging by the way you give that speech I'd say you've rehearsed it well enough."

There came a slight flash of a troubled mind, but was as quickly covered up with practice, "In my own mind, a hundred times a day for several years now."

Reaching across the table as he had done at the beginning of their conversation she touched his arm, "Let him know. Life is too, too short for you or anyone to be unhappy being something that someone else is telling you to be. If you don't want to fight, then don't. Trust the Light to show you your place in this world."

His hand came to cover hers, larger and stronger, gentle still, "Is that what you did? From an orphan in Duskshallow to an apprentice in Stormwind? Did the Light lead you to _us_?"

Lia signed, looked into his pale blue eyes with the truth of things, "All Kayas asked of me when she took me under her wing; that I remain neutral until such time as I graduate my classes and become a full-fledged mage. Then I could decide where I belong. Maybe here, maybe not."

"But if Stormwind were to be attacked while you were here, would you fight?"

"Neutral means I can't take sides. I would do what I could, what I though I needed to do, but I would not participate in the battle itself."

"That you would not fight at all?" The absurdity of the notion puzzled the young man. He could not conceive of an able-bodied person just _not fighting_ if there was fighting to be done.

"I prefer building bridges to fighting over who owns the lumber that builds it or the land it sits on."

Andy was still troubled by her declaration of neutrality. He glanced at the door, fine brown furrowed in though. Clearly he wanted to continue this conversation but the time was up. Still her hand has in his and he squeezed it once more and looked into her eyes again, leaning close, "I'm don't think I'll be a healing priest or a prophet but let me tell you this much: something big is coming. Something huge. And when it does, promise me you wont turn on Stormwind when it happens."

Lia was alarmed, tried to keep her voice down, "Turn on Stormwind? What could I do if I wanted and why would I?" The cook was looking over to see the interaction and wondering if she needed to intervene. Lia shook her head that it would not be necessary, gave the woman a thankful smile. "I have friends here and a man I love, I would _never_ harm them. I'm a second year fire mage; we're notorious for being more destructive on accident than on purpose!" As proof by a certain melted bathtub and ruined hardwood...

"Whatever it is, whatever I'm feeling… we're going to be fighting each other. I don't want to look across that line one day and find you looking back at me. _Please_." The desperation of his words, of his eyes, made her own water and tear up, "If you ever have to choose, if you ever have to make that call… _not Stormwind_, not _my_ people. We've been through enough. Light be good, but this is going to bring us all to our knees _again_. Promise me!"

_This much I can do for you_, "I promise-"

The door flew open and the four men stormed in, saw their joined hands, intense stare and her words- "We're leaving. _Now_." The angry man looked as if he wanted nothing more than to bash Lia's head in with his impressive blue and gold sword, murder that it would be. For a moment Lia wondered if he would get away with it. Certainly the nobility were practiced at making canyons out of gopher holes.

Lia stood the same time Andy did and bid him farewell from her side of the table. The cook came over to present the bill, for which Andy paid with a gold coin and told her to keep the rest for the disruption to her place of business. She thanked him profusely and jokingly told him to could disrupt it again as often as he liked.

The handsome young man did not like parting ways in such a fashion, not being able to hug or even touch his company, but could do little with his guards hanging about like they were. They positioned their charge between them all and out they went. The boots rang off the wooden floor of the diner before clanging in a practiced march off the stone of the smithy.

Lia sank back into her chair for a moment and caught her held breath. The cook came over and slid a piece of cake under her nose and quickly took off. There was much to be said for the woman's way of fixing up a tense situation. And delicious by the smell.

Lia dug in, a lesson well learned from childhood to never refused any food placed in front of her. Not that she or hers ever wanted for food, but this one kind, soft and moist and sweet, put all others to shame. Andy's words rolled over and over in her mind as she ate and a sense of dread slowly settled between her shoulders.

~ Stormwind Keep ~

"Good evening, Father." The guards stayed outside and shut the door behind him as Andy walked into his father's private receiving room. Today the, arguably, most powerful mortal on Azeroth was wearing a fine linen dining suit after an afternoon lunch with some ambassadors from Somewhere Else. Perched on the end of his nose were finely tuned spectacles enchanted to see forgeries.

"That girl is not your intended, now is she? Don't tell me I raised a son who has that kind of taste in women." The king was filing books away on the shelves of his personal library. Apparently what was needed after an afternoon of being civil was a study of battleground tactics, if the titles were any indication. War was to Varian as a good cigar was to any other state official.

Anduin flopped down on the leather couch and hung his legs over the side, "Markus likes to run his mouth. I have a tailor friend who can fix that problem."

"Commoners don't marry princes."

"Alas, Father. She's taken. But the pretty princesses we would have made! My hearth is broken…"

Varian turned away from the shelf, half a stack of books balanced in one enormous hand, "Is my son not good enough for her? Eyes for Aspects only?"

Andy grinned, "You can't have it both ways, Father. Besides, I don't want to talk about her. Lets talk about me. I want to move out of the Keep."

The books clattered to the floor. The King looked at them as if they had jumped from his hands of their own accord. Had they been from the mages library in the purple section of his city that may very well have been the case but this time… he had only himself to blame for the cracked spine of that old copy of _War and How to Win It_. Well it was high time he got it rebound anyway. That and his copy of _Kicking Ass and Taking Names_ were in dire need of repair. Varian would never admit to being the one to scribble 'Orcish' after the word 'kicking' in the title.

As he stooped to retrieve the books he noticed the robes his son wore, "Off to the Cathedral again? Who do those belong to today? And stains! How much am I paying to replace _this_ set?"

"Don't want to talk about my robes. I want to move out of the Keep."

"And why is that?"

"Who is Kayas the Hellcat? And what does 'Sin'dorei treat' mean? I would know these things except-"

"- you live in the Keep. I see." Varian filed the books again. His son suspected the filing system had more to do with how destructive the tactics in the book were rather than the alphabetical or even rank order of the women and men who wrote them.

A glass case set to the side held a five thousand year old Higbourn scroll of _The Peon Survival Guide: How To Shut Your Mouth and Do What You're Told_. The Common was a rough translation from the Orcish translation that was translated from Thelassian. Between language and dialect barriers the King was pretty sure the title wasn't meant to come off sounding quite like that. His son though they did a bang up job with the translation and pointed out that humor was not a human-only characteristic. The original scrolls along with the Orcish to Common translations were a gift of the Warchief Thrall during one of their many, many, many failed peace summits.

"I think it's time. I mean, I'm a man grown and I still live with my _daddy_. I want a bachelor pad."

Varian laughed, "You common-speak is spot on. The people will love you."

"So…? That's a yes?"

"I'm teaching you to run a country, son." The King glanced over his shoulder to find his son kicking slippers into the floor. "I can't do that if your living in a single man's pigsty across town."

"So I met this pretty lady today and I think we'll make pretty babies. They'll have my eyes and my skin tone and black hair and those pretty almond shaped eyes. We'll name her Anulia and him Lianon."

Varian glared, "Don't you even play that game, young man. You realize you just described Lady Prestor? Well her eyes were more round but still… You've had plenty of opportunity to woo a suitable lady of gentle birth. Commoners need not apply."

_Not just Lady Prestor but the kinds of names Blacks give their offspring, which you would know if you knew anything about dragons._ "She's not common, Father. And I already have my place picked out."

"What is she then?" The king ignored the second comment.

"Isnt it obvious? She's a dragon!"

"Enough with the dragons, Anduin! By the Light, it's high time you gave up that silly obsession and focused on your training!"

_No, Father. She really is a dragon._

~ Two Weeks Latter ~

Lia saw Andy again over the next couple of weeks. Once he came to visit the Mage District to find out where she was staying and took her entire gaggle of friends out to dinner. The handsome young man their fire-flinging friend had met in Goldshire sent all of the girls into a flurry of eyelash batting and sheep stares. The men guffawed and laughed at the women folk, trying not to let it get to them.

The next week, once Lia had some coin in her purse again, she spent all day sitting outside the Cathedral to catch his eye with a wink and wait for him to slip the keepers once more. It was almost becoming routine that every other day he would slip off for hours on end and only show up at the keep near the end of the day. His sworn protectors were taking longer and longer to escape each time.

Today in the Blue Recluse Lia, Jenny, Madox and Andy had managed to get a more private table on the second story of the dining room of the Inn. Though Lia wasn't old enough by the standards of the city to even be allowed in a bar there wasn't much to say when Andy asked if they were going to throw them all out for having her with them. The owner stammered an apology, bowed several times and sent over the best barman to take the order.

Each of them was red faced and almost crying in tears by the time the guard found them this time.

"… and the biscuits are so hard and dry…" Andy could barely breath between fits of laughter.

Lia was nodding emphatically and slapping Madox on the arm, "… so dry they squeak-"

"They squeak across your teeth when you bite into them!" Jenny was almost in the floor, hanging over the edge of the table like a desperate sailor avoiding the sea of hysterics they were drowning in. Her blonde hair was pulled back in into a simple bun today, but still decorated with the tiny frozen flowers that were her calling card.

The thudding of boots interrupted the conversation long enough for each of the four to realize it was time to sober up. Well for about as long as it takes to decide Andy wasn't going without a fight today and then dissolve into another giggle fit.

"I hope that's not my food you're talking about! I'd just die o' shame!" The innkeeper had shown the guards where their quarry was seated and followed them up.

"Oh, no sir!" Madox insisted, "Hard tack sent up from the High Elf Rangers. Stuff is enchanted to not get wet and spoil even if you-"

"- you could build a raft out of that stuff!" Jenny's blue eyes were almost shut they were squeezed so tight in mirth, "I think I heard of a ship sinking once and the only survivor was the cook because she floated to land with bags of that stuff tied to her arms!"

The howls were cut off abruptly by one of the guards gently resting a hand on the small blonde's shoulder. Andy stopped as if someone had shot him. Madox noticed next and tapped Lia into silence.

The guards were without heavy plate today, opting instead for the softer and more lightweight mail in light of the midday heat, "The Lady's father would like to have a word with her. Downstairs."

Jenny blanched pale, shot to her feet and almost spilled her glass of wine. "My father? Here?" When the guard nodded the small woman turned to the rest, "I believe this is my farewell. It was good to see you again, Andy. I'll have to take you to the falls sometime and show you how a real mage surfs!" With that she was gone down the steps and down into the room below in seconds.

Lia snorted, in that way that was distinctly hers and Madox glared after his fleeing friend. "Pft. Quel'dorei and their frost magic. Who needs it!"

"Here, here!" Lia agreed, though Jenny was a half-elf and just as skilled in the arcane arts as she was with frost. Her fire skills were as deplorable as Lia's water magic. Madox too was lacking in that field, his fire skills being somewhat adequate.

"Time to go." The guards usually didn't say anything else when they came to collect the young cleric. Whether or not he took Lia's advice and voice complaints to his father were unknown. It would have been rude to ask.

Andy stood and bid them all farewell. Lia and Madox stood as well and Andy grinned. Lia's lack of ediquite was well know amongst her peers, though it was born from a lack of teaching and not a lack of caring. "Ladies don't stand when men leave the table."

"Pft."

"They also don't make that noise," one of the guards observed before catching himself. He sheepishly looked at the floor, "I have a daughter. She's fond of talking with her tongue between her lips… 'The terrible twos' they call it."

"So misleading!" Madox put in, "it's gonna last till they get eighteen and you can kick em out or ship em off. Saying it only happens in the second year of life is a conspiracy." His own daughter was a month away from being born and he was not short on female folk giving him all sorts of helpful advice in every aspect of parenthood. The men just swapped horror stories with him about their women being pregnant and blaming them for the situation. Never mind that it took two to get that way, why do _men_ always get the blame?

~*~ End ~*~

That's all for this section of the story. Please enjoy the outline that follows if you want to know what happened between Lia's hatching and her arrival in Stormwind, and what happened after she inadvertently makes friends with Anduin.


	4. Blackwhelp Outline

Outline of "Blackwhelp"

Deviations from lore.

Spoilers for "Cat in the Bag: The Druid Pawn"

Original Character and established lore characters.

Rated PG 13

~ 15 Years ago ~

~* Vanilla and Burning Crusades *~

Onyxia attacks the throne room in Stormwind, but is driven off thanks to [insert** names here],**

Anduin becomes very interested in the dragonflights.

A band of adventurers goes to Onyxia's lair and slays her.

They go through killing all the whelps that were forced to hatch during the encounter.

One egg that didn't hatch but is still warm is taken away.

They break it open and find a 'runt' black dragon whelp.

They name it Weakwhelp and keep it for a mount some day.

The little whelp is put on an invisible tether and becomes a curiosity for children.

When she shows fear or aggression she is hit and pinched.

If she tries to fly away the tether causes immense pain.

Unable to understand what is going on she grows meek and quiet.

~*~ 10 Years ago ~*~

~* Beginning Wrath of the Lich King *~

King Wryn has returned to assume his kingship of Stormwind.

The Stormwind harbor is newly completed; Valeera Sanguinar is hanging out on the docks.

Ships launching for Northrend land in Howling Fjord and make their way to Coldara, where the. saga of Keristraza's attempts to set things right in the Nexus unfolds.

Anduin is once again a prince, still studying to become a Paladin as his father wishes.

He hungrily eats up news of other Dragonflghts brought from Northrend.

Weakwhelp is raised to know that someday she will make a mount for her captors; they don't yet know the whelp is female.

Dragons grow at human speed until they reach maturity, then they stay looking the same age of young adult until they die (unless they choose to age further.

They force her to eat in an attempt to make her bigger and tether her leg and force her to fly in circles for hours in order to make her a strong flier. She has weights put on her back to accustom her to carrying riders.

As she begins to shed her baby scales her captors begin collecting them for decorative adornments. When she doesn't shed enough they cut and pry more off, holding her down as they do and ignoring the screaming and tears.

One day she attempts to fly off while she is feeding and is harpooned threw a wing joint and tied down for a week as punishment.

They keep her fed however, because they want her to grow as big as possible.

Her head is filled with tales of how evil the Black flight is and the details of her mother, father and grandfather's deeds and deaths are her only childhood stories.

~*~ Five Years ago ~*~

~* Middle Wrath of the Lich King *~

The Expeditions to Northrend have brought Anduin back news of not only the survivors of the Blue flight but also of Malygo's insanity.

News of the Dragonqueen stepping up and taking a part in the war brings hope to everyone.

Wrymrest temple becomes a staging point for fights against the Black flight and to reclaim lost Red eggs

The day comes that Weakwhelp is fitted for a saddle. The first thing she does is try to roll and toss her rider.

The lashing they give her prevent her flying for so long they feared she would never fly again

The next time they try to ride her she tries to impale the rider with the horns on her head; these horns are then cut off and make into whip handles and sharpened into blades that are used to cut more scales from her hide to make armor for her captors.

They beat her regularly to force complicity, leaving scars all over her hide, across her feet and neck

When the beatings go too far she refuses to carry the rider.

The slash her wings as punishment; the heartbreak of having her wings in tattered shreds makes her turn into her human form and plead with them to stop.

Realizing she's female (and naked) she realizes in seconds that they might try to do the 'smoozy' type things with her that they do with the occasional woman who comes a-courting. No amount of beatings can make her turn back into a human once she shifts into dragon again. Dragons mate for life and don't make a habit of having casual sexual encounters.

A corrupt shaman heals her wings with cauterizing magic, much as all her other wounds are healed.

On threat of having her wings re-slashed she is broken into becoming the mount her captors always wanted.

They affix a muzzle around her mouth made of enchanted steel that cant be melted and weld it into place. Only a lock can open it and the commander has the key. She has to submit to him if she wishes to eat.

Her saddle too is welded into place, attached to her scales with melted metal and is never taken off.

~*~ 2 Years ago ~*~

~* End of Wrath of the Lich King and Pre-Cata *~

Established lore deviations.

Arthas is dead and a new Lich King is chosen (and it's not Fordragon!). The remaining undead around the world are retreating to Icecrown, but no one is sure why.

Anduin has stood up to his father and refuses to learn to fight; instead he wishes only to heal.

His study of the dragonflights has made him an expert in the field and he wishes to go to Wrymrest to meet with Alextrazah and ask how he might help her cause.

The king refuses, demanding his son is too young to go off on such adventures, and besides, his obsession with dragons has run it's course and it is time he took up different areas of study. War for instance.

The Dragonqueen sends Kalegos to the Black Flight as their temporary new leader, seeing as they have been unwilling to name a new leader since Neltharion vanished. This does NOT go over well with the Black Flight, who then reject Alextrazshaelaj;dfja;dj as the Dragonqueen and launch an assault on the temple.

Traveling threw Duskshallow Marsh a Cenarion Circle group happens upon the outpost where Weakwhelp and her captors reside .

Upon seeing the state of the dragon one of the Druids insists they let her be healed by their members.

Instead of agreeing or refusing the band is attacked by Weakwhelp's captors.

Sensing some kind of corruption in the Humans the Druids fight back instead of negotiation peace. Druids are good at sensing and destroying what can't be fixed.

One of the Druids sneaks around and unbinds Weakwhelp's tethers –

- She rampages threw the encampment killing everyone who ever harmed her. One of the Druids is accidentally injured in the attack, but quickly takes flight and flees.

In the end her inability to open her mouth is all that stops her from attempting to kill the flying Druids as well.

Most of them flee from the angry black dragon, but one stays, chasing after her through the air until she tires and settles. It is a long time however since she is accustomed to flying for hours on end.

The first thing the Druid does is use roots to pry open the muzzle on her mouth, bending the enchanted metal into pieces that it will never be used for that purpose again.

The red welts around Weakwhelp's muzzle anger the Druid who insists she can find someone who knows how to heal Dragons properly if the black dragon would only come with her in the guise of a human… no one would know she was a Black Dragon.

Changing into her human form for the second time in her life she is rewarded for her show of trust. It is discovered that Weakwhelp cannot speak human languages while in dragon form, though she can understand them.

The Druid finds a discreet metalsmith who can unweld the saddle from her back. Like Druids, anything the 'human' form is wearing will vanish as they turn into their animal forms; likewise any thing a dragon is wearing with vanish when they become 'human'. Thus can dragons wear saddles but not have them "on" while in human form. The Druid is adament that dragons are people just like herself and are not mindless animals which are for riding. (Easy to say when you have instant-cast flight form!)

Free of saddle and muzzle for the first time in years Weakwhelp does a spiral flight of joy, finally allowed to fly for the love of flying and without the weight of Humans on her neck.

When the rest of the Cenarion group catches up to them they know at once the black-haired human girl with the Druid is the Black Dragon.

They don't question why the Druid didn't kill her; most people knew Kayas Hellcat's story and her adamant conviction that children should never be made to pay for the crimes of their parents. Aside from that, it was obvious that the child of a Black Dragon had already paid dearly for the crime of being hatched Black.

Kayas takes the Dragon in and promises to find a healer who knows how to heal Dragons if she will stick around.

Kayas true agenda is to hand her over to the Dragonqueen to be raised by Dragons who are not going to punish her just for being Blackflight. She also suspects than Weakwelps unusual coloring (just shades of black instead of any orange, yellow, purple or red) are due to being a runt, along with her lack of corruption. Her timid nature, however, is purely training.

When trying to come up with a new name for her it is settled that she will be [**name]** Blackwell as a human and Blackwhelp as a dragon.

She is essentially the size of a large draft pony, but strong enough to carry two people and their supplies should she need to.

Kayas goes to Jaina Proudmore in Theramore and asks her to allow Blackwell to stay within her city while Kayas is away to Northrend on personal business.

Jaina agrees and off Kayas goes.

~*~ 1 and a Half years ago ~*~

~* Beginning of Cata elemental upheaval, Pre-Deathwing *~

Once Kayas returns it is with the sad news that the Black flight as laid siege to Wrymrest and the Red eggs are not salvageable; the new Twilight Flight is formidable in the use of fire and arcane magic.

Jaina confronts Kayas about Blackwell, pointing out that she would not have given refuge to a Black dragon had she known firstly that she was a Black dragon!.

Secondly she pointed out that she supposes that is why Kayas didn't tell her; now that she has seen the girl in action she is aware that the whelping is not corrupted, nor does she seek to harm.

Thirdly she points out that with Wrymrest under siege and the Red flight busy they had best deal with Blackwell themselves. (Yay for in-game lore that works in my favor!)

The Black Dragonflights of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms are once again under attack and raids are set up against Blackflght strongholds in an attempt to snuff out this dangerous foe.

King Wryn himself sets a price on every black dragon head brought to him; revenge for his wife's inadvertent death because of Onyxia's scheming. (Yes, it was the Defias, but she was the reason they rebelled.)

Lastly Jaina has noted an affinity for fire magic in the young dragon-disguised-as-human and suggests getting her a trainer; her own kind would have taught her how to use it to destroy but a Human trainer of ethics could teach her how to use it for good. Fire breeds life as well as consuming the dead. Jaina herself is a water and frost specialized mage and doesn't teach fire magic

Kayas takes Blackwell to Stormwind where she sets her up with a nice room in the magetower and private instructors.

Soon after Kayas leaves though Blackwell makes friends amongst the Humans of Stormwind and after pleading letters to Kayas (in which Jaina backs her up) is allowed to attend public classes.

Enter romance: Gary Stew (for lack of a better name, lol), her fire instructor, quickly takes a shine to her. She shines back. After being foisted off on another instructor he welcomes her advances to the extent that kissing is not so bad when he is over twice her age and she is still a child of 17 and a half. Often she points out that it's close enough to 18, but he still only lets her kiss him.

This didn't stop her from having a wet dream one night and setting her bed on fire. A fire she quickly absorbed and shot out the window as flame breath. Yay learning how to breath fire the hard way!

Now whenever she gets hot and bothered her breath steams, a trick she quickly learns to master lest she give herself away.

To everyone's utter amusement it turns out Blackwell cannot be sheeped in any way; everyone assumes a natural immunity but none realize how right they are.

Her affinity for magic soon makes her the star of her fire magic classes. Her arcane skills are average and her water and frost magic skills deplorable. Absolutely deplorable.

~*~ 1 Year ago ~*~

The siege of Wrymrest is broken and Kayas writes to say she is returning to Northrend to see about putting her up with the Red flight.

Blackwell refuses to leave, citing how much she cares for her Gary Stew, despite his age. Jaina once again intervenes and persuades Kayas to allow Blackwell to stay in Stormwind.

Kayas realizes the black dragon has made an ally of the non-Queen of Theramor and can only sigh as yet another unlikely pair of friends comes together in her wake.

Anduin Wryn insists on being allowed to visit Wrymrest now that the siege is over. His father, overprotective of his only protege, refuses. In despair Anduin turns to the Light and takes up residence in the Cathedral. The result is discovering just how much the Light calls to him and he begins sneaking around behind his father's back and teaching himself the skills of a priest.

After slipping his keepers one afternoon, Anduin happens upon a black dragon making a cinder bath out of fallen logs in a field being cleared for farmland. The farm hands are away for lunch so no one is around. After being mesmerized by the sight of such a dangerous animal so close to him his passionate love of dragons reaffirms itself.

The dragon flees when the return-to-work timer goes off; Anduin realizes the dragon has to live nearby to know what that sound means.

He finds her in town, covered in soot and reeking of campfire. She goes to the inn. He waits outside with is copy of "Dragons in History".

When she comes out he introduces himself via noticing the book she has herself pressed into. They have lunch and set off a friendship. Soon he's introduced to her friends and... finds himself with friends of his own for the first time in his life.

They don't know "Andy" is actually Prince Anduin; no one Lia knows in Stormwind knows she's a dragon but Andy and she doesn't know Any knows.

Winter's Veil rolls around and everyone heads out to spend time with their families

Thinking she is an orphan, a truth she gladly let everyone know so they wouldn't ask about her family, everyone is surprised when she decides to hop a tram to Ironforge and visit the Burning Steeps. Like most fire-loving mages, her hatred of the cold is no secret.

Gary wants to come with her, to keep her safe, he says, but she refuses, even laughing when he suggests the Black dragons of the Steeps are vicious creatures who will gobble anyone up.

Upon getting to the Steeps, traveling through the way-too-cold Dwarven lands, she finds herself in the ancestral grounds of the Dark Iron Dwarves mingled with the ancestral breeding grounds of the Black Dragonflight.

She is testing the lava for heat by dipping her toes into it when she hears a voice ask her if the temperature is right. A lava bath would feel great to soak the cold of Ironforge out of her bones.

Glancing up behind her she sees a blue haired human perched on a rock. "And what are you doing so far from your clutch?" he asks her.

"Just taking a stroll. I'll be going now." She tries to leave.

He turns into a blue dragon and pins her to the ground. She tries o fight but he's too big; she turns back into her true form and goes to fight him with claws and teeth.

He sees her scars and stops, knowing such scars only came from Human hands.

He insists he doesn't want to hurt her; that he was put in charge of the Black dragonflight and was rounding up any 'stray' in the area on the way to Stormwind to pick up a new apprentice bound for Dalaran.

Upon hearing this she wants to know which new apprentice; that she knew of there were none bound for Dalaran.

He's interested in how she knows the going's on of the mages of Stormwind.

Come to find out he had been sent to get her, on recommendation of and and that he was to 'take her not-a-boyfriend with them as well'.

Blackwell doesn't like it that she can't pit her mentors against each other to get her way anymore. She agrees to go back at the end of the semester. The blue dragon promises to come back at that time.

~*~ Present Day ~*~

~* The Cataclysm *~

Lovely day for a slaughter?

Deathwing thinks so!

As he rips open the world and eventually makes his way to Stormwind, intent on taking revenge on those who caused Onyxia's death.

Lia feels him coming for the better half of the day, convincing her friends one by one that they really need to leave the city for some reason or another. Only Andy sees this as suspicious since he can also feel apprehensive energy coming from his friend due to his self-training.

Lia is just on her way to the park district to get the last of her friends when Deathwing finally arrives. Lia watches in horror as the entire park district, her firend included, is pulled into the sea.

Deathwing sees her and she freezes. Taking on the form of a dragon she flees. He follows her with flames, taking out the clock tower in a torrent of lava-like fire. She barely makes it out of the line of fire and flees towards the keep, taking refuge in the mote under a dock.

Having noticed her robes he then tries to burn down the mage district but by then the mages have erected a shield. Giving up on both the weak whelp and the mages he claws the trade district to crumbles before making his way to the front gate and doing his thing there (which we saw on the cinematic 9 thousand times so I don't need to describe it.)

He hits the cathedral briefly; the priests erect shields but they don't hold back nearly as much damage as the mages' fire-resistant shielding.

Lastly he notes the keep, which wasn't there before and heads over. King Varian has his troops ready to fight off the defender.

Knowing that if they fight the King will loose Blackwell shifts back into her dragon form and intercepts the first bouts of fire. Taking it in she blows it back out at him, though it's almost too much for her to handle and she has to land in the mote again to cool off.

The though of one of his brood protecting the humans pisses off an already pissed off dragon. The arrival of backup from portals in Ironforge comes pouring out of the mage district. Suddenly the air is so full of flying and fighting mounts that the dragon becomes annoyed and flees to continue his rampage elsewhere. The reinforcements take off after him.

Stormwind is in ruins.

Blackwell, a bad swimmer in dragon form, makes it to land without shifting into a human where people can see her, and flies away to find the friends she was able to save.

Anduin finds Lia with the rest of his friends.

Lia panics when Anduin reveals not just who he is but that he knows what she is as well. Gary Stew is confused, wanting to know who he though Lia was.

Lia finds herself between a rock and a hard place; Andy begging for her help in saving his city and knowing her friends might turn on her if she confirmed what Andy was suggesting.

Finally she agrees to help Andy, even if it cost her the friends she had left. She does it to honor the one she couldn't save.

Telling Gary she loves him one last time she kisses him and walks a ways off with Andy.

When she gets away a bit she confirms with Andy that he can ride well. The crowd of survivors is stunned when a Black dragon suddenly appears before them. They would have attacked but Any shields her and off the go.

He tells her where to go in the city and she obeys, landing on the burning buildings, sucking in the flames through her belly and wings and then blowing the heat out of her mouth in the form of dragon's fire. Andy keep shimself shielded from the heat.

When they need to fly, they fly. When they need to land and help survivors they land and help survivors. When they need to dig, Lia digs; she's big enough to hold up collapsing buildings and strong enough to move heavy rubble. They even fish a few survivors of the park district out of the ocean.

Finally Lia can't take it anymore. Deathwing is a powerful dragon and there is no way she can take in and transmute all of his elemental fury. The aesthetic parts of the city, such as the clock tower and front gates get ignored in favor of the cathedral, keep and civilian quarters.

Finally she calls it quits, no longer able to turn into her human form anymore or she'd burn up from the internal heat. Her charred and cracking body lands hard enough on the ground where she took off to shake the trees. The prince barely manages to get off her back before the last of his shielding magic is gone or he would have gotten as roasted as the dragon. Her skin is cracking open, the molten magic of DW's fire power showing, bleeding molten blood. Lia's dragon form is literally roasting where she lays.

The grass around her blackens within seconds and cinders into the wind.

Anduin is trying to heal Lia's wounds when his father finally catches finds him, having followed the dragon's smokey trail out of the city.

Varian had witnessed a lot of what Andy and Lia had done, having himself been on the ground doing much the same. He is impressed by his son but does not trust Lia.

When Varian goes to end the dragon it is his son who pleads with him to fight his warrior nature and not punish the innocent which breaks through is battle haze. The king puts his sword away.

Gary pushes his way through the crowd, having decided he doesn't give a damn if Lia is a dragon or not, he loves her and he's going to save her. Putting his own hands on her body he draws the heat away, trying to cool her down. Unfortunately he can't transmute dragon magic the way Lia can transmute human magic.

It takes a host of mages working some powerful magic for them to find the right way to remove the heat from her body. If they try throwing ice spells on her they could seriously damage her.

Kayas and Jaina arrive, along with Kalecgos. The dragon is the last ingredient in transmuting and removing the renaming magic.

Finally Lia is able to turn into her human form. She pleads with them to just allow her to die. No matter where she goes and what she does, she's always going to be a Black dragon and there would never be a welcome place for her by anyone's hearth. Weakwelp or Blackwell or Blackwelp, nothing they called her would erase the sins of her flight or stop people from trying to use her for their own gain.

Kalegos steps forward, "Have you met her?" he points to Kayas, "She can tell you all about people trying to use her for their own gain. See if you can find them now. If you don't want to be a pawn then don't be a pawn."

Varian looks at the smoking ruins of his city, and his surviving citizens and then at the Black dragon in front of him. Gary takes Lia into his arms and tries to soothe her while the King makes up his mind. "In rage I would have killed you for that monster's sins. But for my son I would have ended the one who saved me when I was in the line of fire. You are welcome in my lands, but you can't stay in Stormwind. There'll be no shortage of people looking to take revenge on you in place of the dragon who took a gnomish blowtorch to the whole world.

Lia and Gary go into hiding, as much from Deathwing's spies as from angry humans. Fortunately that's not difficult when a dragon and her human mate have friends in high places.

Anduin is finally allowed to visit Wrymrest temple and the Dragonshrines

~*~ Added Sep 25 to Reflect Cata Lore Changes and Continue the Story ~*~

~* Early Cataclysm, Several Month's Latter *~

The world is preparing for war as the Black Flights and the Twilight's Hammer go on the attack.

Orgrimmar gets spared being hit by Deathwing.

Thrall is called to his roots as a shaman and wants to hand over his mantel to Garrosh.

He knows war is coming and wants not just his city prepared, but for everyone to prepare.

He writes Varian:

"Honorable King of Stormwind,

Will you stop pouting in your keep if I let you attack my city? I would have my successor understand what a formidable adversary these pink humans are if the Destroyer himself came at you and you still stand. Throw your might at my defenses and show him how arrogance will not serve him as Warchief. For demonstration purposes only I shall allow you access to my holding.

Sincerely,

I Promise Not To Kill Your Attackers"

There's something to be said about the Orc way of provoking a grown man into fits of rage.

Varian writes back:

"Esteemed Warchief,

Go ahead and try to kill my emissaries.

Sincerely,

Good Luck With That."

Garrosh is not the only warrior with arrogance to spare.

It's a warm fall day in Durotar when Prince Anduin, Lia Blackwell, and Gary Stew arrive in the dazzling, towering capital of the small Orc nation.

At first Thrall though it was a joke. He knew Anduin since childhood, being almost on the same terms with the young Prince as with Jaina. Was this child seriously going to disrupt anything in his city?

"Ready, Lia?"

"Aye!"

When the 18 year old human female strode boldly away from group of orcs and humans they though it was a joke. Till she turned around. Anduin had enough time to bubble the warchief before a full bout of dragon's fire hit everything. Gary grinned, taking the heat like a true fire mage while Thrall stood dumbfounded.

Lia takes off. Flying circles around Orgrimmar she first avoid all the missiles fired at her, then dodges the magic. She suns herself across the roof of the orphanage while daring the hunters to send there enormous pets at her and risk injuring the children. Then she takes off again, pursued by flying mounts this time. Making the wyvn fear her, they flee and refuse to follow (This description of the fight is just highlights, by the way) and have to be grounded. Next comes the dragon mounts. Seeing dragons willingly carrying passengers brings longing ot Lia's heart and she refuses to attack them. It isn't till she gets cornered in the air, surrounded that she realizes they used her compassion against her. Dragon's fire would have charred a lesser being... but not a black dragon. Absorbing the flames she turns circles in the air, sending every bit of it back at the attackers. Then she's off again, gracefully looping the city, scaling up walls, winding around buildings. Beautiful and lithe and moving like a snake and not a thousands pound dragon.

Thrall is amazed, just watching the antics in a magical reflective pool. All the while Anduin just grins by his side and offers small tidbits of consolation. So far nothing has touched the dragon. Magic? Fire? Harpoons? Beasts? Nothing brings her down. When she set fire to the entire ramparts Thrall realized what his invitation to Varian had done: Provoked a man who's city got burned down by a dragon and so he had set a dragon to do the same to Thralls beloved city.

Finally Lia is pulled to the ground... by music. L70ETC was playing a concert. The lead base player suddenly realizes the crowd was paying more attention to something behind him than to him and turns to see what it is. A ten foot tall smoke heart floats around his blood elf frame from the dragon who is dancing just feet behind him. He hadn't even heard her land.

Upon being noticed she lets out a peel of draconic laughter and flies away.

Thrall: "That's really not fair. Varian has dragons on his side?"

Gary: "Varian only benefits from his son's friendships. Lia is neutral, but she likes to set things on fire and you did want your city tested."

Finally Lia lands, turns human and asks Thrall if he likes her work. His bulwars are on fire, the wyvrns are scared, the dragaons are hiding, his soldiers are running around trying to calm the civilians and the orphans are overrunning the band because their hut is full of disoriented hunter pets.

Thrall only nods, a smile spreading across his face. "Tell Varian "Touche"."

When the other dragons come out of hiding Lia is in dragon form and sunning herself on the roof of the auction house (the old layout of Orgrimmar) while orphans climb all over her. She finds she really likes children. Human children at least. The other dragons try to get her to play a game with them, where a long and flag stick is tossed around through the air. Upon admitting she doesn't know how to play the game they land and demand to know how she doesn't know. The end result is having to explain to other dragons that she wasn't raised to be dragon and doesn't know how to be dragon. That day she finally makes friends with dragons: a red one named Cindersoot by a rider who can't be bothered to learn to pronounce her actual 16 letter Red name; a twilight dragon who wasn't quite right in the head after being mentally unchained from Sartharion but was gentle non-the-less, and an nether drake who's body occasionally went see-through when he got unsure or scared. They proceed to give Lia lessons on How to Be a Daragon (tm pending).

Two days latter, while Orgrimmar was well underway with updates that would make it dragonproof in case of an attack by other black dragons (not unheard of, you know?) Anduin decides to take Lia to see something that he "had to be in a certain mood to see."

Onyxia's skull.

Upon seeing for the first time the last of the remains of her own mother Lia is overcome by various emotions.

Her magic presence wakes up something in the bones. Lady Prestor's image appears to them, recognizing the older Anduin.

Lia finds she's able to speak with her mother's spirit. When asked why she was a ghost the spirit confesses that it was because of the corruption of the black flight and the fact that her remains weren't laid to rest properly. Also because she had unfinished business.

The skull lifts from the ground of it's own and image vanishes. In it's place the a shade of the full dragon Onyxia.

Onyxia and Lia go back and forth with Lia getting more and more upset with the image every exchange. Finally Andy steps in, suggesting the conversation be over. He is visibly upset as well. When Lia asked why Andy fessed up:

"She's the only mother I've ever known. And she tried to kill me."

"Oh, pish! I never did the sort."

"You kidnapped me!"

"And did I ever hurt you? Even once during the entire time you were in my care did I ever do you wrong or land a hand on you or ill advise you or harm you in any way? Even when I took you back to my lair did harm befall you?"

"No?"

"Why do you think that is?" The image lays down, crossing her forelegs smartly.

"Because you knew I was valuable."

"No, Anduin. Andy. No. I never harmed you because my goal was to get rid of Varian, not for your mother to die. You were orphaned unintentionally and I took responsibility. I was..." she looks at Lia "... first and foremost..." a huff of dragon's fire hits Lia from the opening between the massive bone jaws, forcing her to transform into a dragon - ".. a mother." Lia is startled by this and cries out because she can't turn back to a human at will. "Many things are made clear in death. The corruption of the Black Aspect is apparent now in a manor it could never have been shown to me in life. It cost me my mate and my brood and my very existence. It cost both of you a loving mother who would have brought the world to a halt if it meant keeping you safe and content. I can give you nothing now, my last little whelping, except a name. Sabelia. If someday you can forgive me I hope you will take my bones back to the marsh from which you were clutched and lay me to rest. I think, after all this time, all I want to do is finally rest."

The next day Anduin and Gary leave Orgrimmar with Sabelia to take Onyxia's skull back to Duskshallow Marsh, where they sink it into the much and lay her spirit to rest.

~*~ The Ending ~*~

~* End of Cataclysm *~

Leaving this here cause it's not an absolute impossibility yet.

When Deathwing is finally brought down the shamans and druids raise the park district out of the sea and restore it to be the home of the Dragonflights of Azeroth, a mixture of all the different dragon sanctuaries; cinderpools for the black flight, shady groves for the red flight, sandy caves for the bronze flight, oasis dream pools for the green flight… even sulphate spring for the identify-confused survivors of the Twilight and Chromatic flights who like hot mud to wallow in

In the middle of the sanctuary is a house gifted to Blackwell; she is named as the official Keeper of the Sanctuary for as long as she wants the title and becomes an ambassador between angry humans and angry dragons. Who better for that job than a daughter of the Black Flight?

~* End Story *~

~* Outlands, Pandaria and Draenor *~

In my mind I see Lia as visiting Outlands to meet with the Netherwing Drakes, but besides understanding that she would seek out other sane "Black" dragons, I don't really have any story to go along with this notion. I have no further plans for Lia, Anduin, their friends, and/or Gary ( Li-duin and Co?) in Pandaria or Draenor at this time.


End file.
